


We Will Meet and Never Part

by Chooboozle, Emono



Series: Ghost AU [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ghost Sex, Horror movie esque, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spirit World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chooboozle/pseuds/Chooboozle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones has nowhere else to go but the cheapest Brownstone he can find. As he tries to fix up his new home and start a fresh life, he slowly realizes he's not quite as alone as he thought. There's something in the house - someone, someones. And they crave him, his heat, his very life energy. Not in the way that will kill him, but in the way that ruins him in the night and leave him sore in the morning. Dan, so tender and gentle. Ryan, passionate and rough and beyond possessive. Trapped in that house, waiting for the right mortal to come along, and they won't let him go easily. </p><p>What they did not have in life, they will have in death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

“ _But you must stop playing among his ghosts -- it's stupid and dangerous and completely pointless. He's trying to lay them to rest here, not stir them up, and you seem eager to drag out all the sad old bones of his history and make them dance again. It's not nice, and it's not fair.”_

―  ** Patricia A. McKillip,  ** _** Winter Rose ** _

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


There are two realms that one one can enter after death. 

  
  


Within one, there is light and warmth where a spirit can dwell happily with loved ones and feel at peace for the rest of perceived eternity. In this place, there is no sadness or pain, no tears or heartbreaks. In this place, friends and loved ones are reunited in happiness and harmony without a care in the world, without even a shadow to cast upon their peace. This realm comes to spirits who lived full mortal lives without regret, without baggage, and who left the world as content as they could be to draw their last breath. Those who open their hearts to death and show love come to the realm of Light, able to cross over and away from the mortal world to experience true bliss. 

  
  


The other realm, however, spirits become trapped in a cage of cold and darkness. Called ‘The Further’ by human mediums and guides, spirits fester there, unable to cross over nor are they able to indulge in the joys of life. Touch. Pleasure. Warmth. The Further homes the murderers, the greedy, the selfish, and the evil. Those who left the world in swirl of rage, who decided to cling on with their unfinished business. Once trapped, there was no escape except through a human vessel or a gifted mortal who was cursed with the ability to drift through both worlds.

  
  


Until then, spirits roamed The Further in sadness and grief, never to be able to forget the terrible things that they did in their life, how badly they treated others, and how evil they were to selfless loved ones. There is no relief or warm touch for the dead. There, they are trapped

  
  


~~~

  
  


Dan sniffled, fingers grazing over the furniture downstairs. He swore to himself that they contained some sort of heat or livelihood that would allow him to remember the past and what his life was like before it was shattered into pieces. Those happy days with Adam, his lover from decades before, long dead. Sometimes he feared Adam’s spirit would find it’s way back here but the man seemed to freed in a way he was not. In a way he had chosen not to be.

  
  


His hands stopped when they glided against the wall, hand grabbing a hold of the post of a corner before he turned his head sharp to look down the hallway. He saw the entrance to the kitchen and he remembered it well, eyes soon falling down slowly at a particular place on the floor. To anyone else, it was a simple,unnoticeable discoloration of the floor, but to Dan it hit him much harder.

  
  


There was a flash of images - his last memories, Adam’s distraught face, his strained words as he laid there on the floor, completely helpless to do anything else except slowly feel his life get snuffed out. 

  
  


A wave of cold went over him and he dared himself to actually walk over to the spot, but soon there was nothing other than  _ pain  _ washing over him and he began to weep, hands coming up to his eyes to hide himself, knowing that he would catch attention from the other if he was too loud.

  
  


All of his essence  _ begged  _ for peace, and yet it all felt as if he deserved this for the decision he had made: Roaming around for all eternity, never allowed to leave and never to feel anything but cold and numb agony. 

  
  


And just like that, a strike of icy-cold needles came down on his shoulder, a cry teasing his throat, but he held it back as he knew who it was; there was no other being that was there besides the both of them. 

  
  


“Must you always look down there?” asked a deep yet gentle voice. Dan turned around to see the other, an expression of mourning plastered on his handsome face. “All it does is bring us pain.”

  
  


Dan couldn’t think of anything to say back that wasn’t cruel, teeth bared to hold back any outburst that he would have made. He was swamped in regret for the decision he’d made so long ago. After he’d died right here on the floor, once death had come for him, he’d had a chance to find true peace and live in bliss for the rest of the days, but instead he’d chosen an existence laced with the one being who’d shown him kindness, love.  _ Possession _ . He stayed not for the house or for the memories; he hadn’t known at the time what he would be accompanied by when he had chosen to stay in the darkness and dwell in the house. He stayed for the other spirit that was now pulling him in, hand clasped underneath his chin to pull him in for a strong, willing kiss.

  
  


_ Nothing _ , like all the other attempts. Whenever they touched, there was never any heat to go with it like the living would experience if they ever made such a move. Beings like them would never be able to feel that loving warmth or touch again; they wouldn’t be able to feel anything except for the freezing numbness that came with every interaction that they made with each other. There were people who had flittered through the house over the years, ones Dan had tried to sap warmth from, but Ryan had always driven them out in one way or another. They had been cursed with cruel tenants. Child-beaters, rapists, shifty vagabonds with hooker addictions and coke stuffed in their nose.

  
  


The younger spirit was on the verge of weeping once again, the kiss becoming too painful and heartbreaking for him to stand that he ripped himself away from the other. “Why do we even try, Ryan?”

  
  


That sent his lover’s temper ablaze, a quick rage he’d always had

  
  


“One day could be the day!” Ryan barked, fists clenched around Dan’s shoulders again to try and pull him back. “You can’t give up on me yet!”

  
  


“I didn’t! You lured me here just so I could suffer with you!” Dan gritted his teeth, but allowed to be pulled by the hand with fingers wrapped around until they fell into hold with no connection between their lips. Dan could taste the venom of his own words, a bitter regret, and he winced. He wanted to swallow them back down no matter the horrid taste. It was a lie, they both knew it, and he looked to the ground to avoid the other spirit’s hurt gaze.

  
  


“ I  _ lured  _ you?!” 

  
  


Dan wanted to spew apologies but it was hard when his throat felt so swollen, clogged with grief. He came willingly, both of them unknowing that they wouldn’t be able to feel that intimate heat and touch between each other in this strange afterlife. The younger spirit shook his head honestly and looked up at Ryan with eyes that were layered with tears.

  
  


“I-I just want to feel again,” he admitted.

  
  


“ And you think  _ I  _ don’t? Selfish thing.” Ryan threw Dan’s hands away in anger, although he knew that they wouldn’t stay like this for long. Soon, they would be crawling back to each other, tangling yet another attempt full of disappointment and loss and it would continue to happen over and over again. Years upon years upon decades of trying to come together, powering through frozen kisses to even get a taste of passion. All of it crumbling into them pressed close on one of the bads, hardly feeling anything but pressor. 

  
  


“ I didn’t mean it,” Dan said, coming close once again. He extended some fingers to graze over Ryan’s chest, but there was no heartbeat. He kept his hold anyway, grabbing tight to try and get some inkling of life. He pulled himself closer to the other spirit and shuddered at how icy it was, how even so close together they could be so full of  _ nothing. _

  
  


Ryan took a hold on his wrist, breath faltering slightly. “Pins and needles,” he spoke slowly, gaze falling onto Dan once more. It wasn’t warm or comforting in anyway, but it was still there - a brand new  _ feeling  _ that hadn’t been felt in years. The prickling pain shot through his being and he gasped, holding tighter. He could feel the concern that Dan was giving off, and even he had no idea what this aching feeling was. “W-what is that?...” 

  
  


“What?” Dan had a questionable expression that sort of scared the older ghost, but he tried to maintain himself. The needles and pins began to grow warmer to the point that he shuddered, losing his touch to the younger spirit to just look at his hand. 

  
  


“Can you not...?” he trailed, gripping his hand on air slowly as if trying to regain any sensation. After a second more, the feeling pooled with an awakening and faint heat and sent his eyes wide. “Dan?”

  
  


“What is it, Ryan? I don’t understand.”

  
  


“ I  _ feel  _ something.”

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


With a long breath, he snapped another picture before putting the camera away. It was a mental preparation for the beginning of a new life. The Brownstone was pretty beautiful on the outside but he’d been warned by the secretary he’d called about the listing that it was a piece of shit inside. It was on an increasingly smaller list of affordable housing and this one he could actually  _ own _ .

  
  


Michael lifted his cap and stepped closer, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun to stand at the bottom of the steps that led to the front door.

  
  


The atmosphere of the house was no less than heavy, but he swallowed the feeling and brushed it off as a form of anxiousness for the start of his new life. Maybe he could settle down here, maybe this would be the one. He could move in friends, rent rooms, maybe start a family if he found the right partner - the possibilities were endless.

  
  


The shivers he got were surely of anticipation. 

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


Michael lost his mom when he refused to go to college. It had been so important for her and she'd been grooming him for it his whole life. Tudors, extra assignments, flashcards, special classes at school, and early college credit classes. Overly healthy breakfasts and study session – it had all been a paved path into a good, higher-level university. The day he finally admitted that he hadn't sent out applications and that he'd applied for trade school instead, he lost her. She didn't throw a fi, not like he'd hoped. Instead she repressed it and became cold, distant, and suddenly Michael's deadbeat brother was the favorite. His mother shut down on him at first, and then started to block him out. Eventually she started plans for adoption and began shopping for the right, upscale establishment to give her the bright college brat she'd always wanted.

  
  


Michael became background noise until he finally said the wrong thing, and then it became screaming.

  
  


“I'm gay.”

  
  


“You're what?”

  
  


“I'm just fucking gay, okay? It's not a big deal.”

  
  


That's when Michael lost his brother. And once his dad got home, he lost him too.

  
  


So Michael took all his savings and a generous donation from his grandmother and moved to Brooklyn to find a shitty, run down Brownstone. It was liveable, running water that was more cold than hot and it was spacey enough that he wouldn't feel smothered and he could have friends over if he wanted. The shitty wiring could be fixed by himself and he'd try his best at the messy  plumbing , the drywall, even some of the appliances. When he toured the place he knew it would be hard work but it was a place he could rent to own and his electrician job was steady pay. He talked at length to the landlord about the cheap price but all the man said was that the repairs went deeper than aesthetic.

  
  


“ What does that even  _ mean _ , dude?”

  
  


“Do you want the place or not?”

  
  


Dirt cheap? Close to his work and a hardware store? A deli on each corner? No home to go back to Michael couldn't refuse it. He didn't have a lot of stuff to move but his best friend Gavin came over anyway with his boyfriend's truck ( “ _ You live with him and his wife, you guys are in a weird freeway, he's your fuckin' 'Daddy' and I don't wanna' know if you call Griffon 'Mama' or not, that's just too much.” _ ) They’d taken all his stuff in one go, including his bed and frame. It was the heaviest, bulkiest part of the load and neither of them were exactly ripped. They fumbled with it all but managed to get it all inside and up the first flight of stairs. The rest was just old books, video games, his Xbox, TV, and his trade/regular tools. A couple posters, some gadgets, a TV stand, and a coffee table. The bare essentials, really. 

  
  


The Brownstone was three full floors. The top was an attic/storage area that really needed a good cleaning. It was peppered with boxes from old tenants and musty furniture, dust an inch thick on the floor, ceiling arched with spider webs and moth eaten curtains hanging over the few windows it had. The second floor was all spare bedrooms, the largest one getting littered with the broken down pieces of his bed and boxes of belongings. The bottom floor was home to a wide living room, an open kitchen, and a dining room he was sure he’d never touch. 

  
  


Gavin hung around long enough to run to the story with him to get some emergency groceries and chug a glass of water before he was off again. Michael was left by himself a big house he’d only been in once and that was crowded with more spiders than anything. There were a few pieces of furniture left - a dining table, a chair, a nightstand, a dresser, and one of the biggest couches Michael had ever seen. It was kind of lumpy but not in a bad way.

  
  


And for the first few nights, it would be his bed.

  
  


Michael put a movie in his Xbox for some kind of noise ( _ It’s so fucking quiet here _ ) before breaking out the bedding. He threw a sheet over the couch, tossed some pillows on it, a throw blanket, and decided that was plenty for the first week. He set up his only lamp in the corner to chase away some of the deeper shadows before stripping down to his boxers and plopping into ‘bed’. He munched on a couple protein bars, lashes falling lower as the shitty action movie rolled through it’s plot.

  
  


By the time the credits rolled, Michael was curled up in his blanket and fast asleep. 

  
  


~~~ 

  
  


The sound of the city was faint inside the Brownstone. A dull hum of cars and that electric buzz that seemed to lace into the air itself. No air stirred inside the house but it creaked,  _ settling _ , breathing in great, asthmatic wheezes. The floor boards shifted like broken ribs, cobwebs lining the nooks and crannies like sinew. One young boy on a musty old couch, sprawled out now from restless sleep. Cinnamon curls and strawberry blonde lashes upon pale, freckled cheeks. Little puffs of hair escaped beestung lips, sometimes carrying into snores but never enough to wake him up. 

  
  


There was a shift in the attic. A noisy breath, a rustled sheet, and a word.  _ Warmth _ . Then nothing. On the stair railing, three dots appeared in the dust and then slowly dragged down the length of it like idle fingers. The steps didn’t groan but simply grumbled discontentedly, though there was no proof of it. A hushed conversation of whispers too low to decipher. 

  
  


The lamp in the corner dimmed. The air grew colder, just a touch at first, and then by enough that goosebumps cropped up on Michael’s skin. The boy murmured nonsense but didn’t wake up. The TV flickered at the edges, thin lines popping up for barely a second before disappearing once more. The game console hummed loudly, the green ring around the power button glowing brightly. Just as quick as it started, the system shut off. 

  
  


There was a swell of stillness in the room, a tightness of anticipation. 

  
  


_ So beautiful.  _ It was the quietest of whispers, hardly more than an exhale. The blanket bunched up near Michael’s knees and was slowly dragged down, the pale swell of shoulders and rivet of a fine collarbone unveiling to the room. It skimmed over small, dark nipples and down the soft frame of his waist, his hips, and then to the floor. His comic book boxers had ridden with his thrashing and plump, freckled thighs went on display.

  
  


Michael’s head turned away from the couch and up, two depressions appearing on each side of his jaw from an unseen force. He was turned side to side, examined. Then another, deeper voice rasped out.  _ Prettier than the last. Prettier than any of them. _

  
  


Michael wet his lips, still fast asleep as something trailed down his throat and across his chest. He made a weak little grunt when his nipple was flicked, a gauge for reaction, and then it was pinched until the boy gave a tiny squeal of protest. It was released, aching and flushed, and the mortal slipped back into dreams. Pink lines cropped up down his freckled belly and ended in a artful swirl just above his boxers. Both thighs dimpled in five deep points of pressure, the flesh shamelessly groped and his legs spread just for the pleasure of seeing the soft bulge between his legs. 

  
  


The boy let out happy sigh as an unseen hand cupped his cheek and thumbed under his eye. He pushed into the touch, unknowing.  _ Such a sweet angel.  _ A tender croon as curls were lovingly pet through, strands catching on invisible fingers. They were carded back from Michael’s forehead before a cool kiss was pressed there.  _ A precious little lad. He worked so hard today. He deserves a proper bed. _

  
  


Michael’s chin was tilted up and his lips parted under the coaxing of an unseen thumb. He mouthed at it, lips forming around nothing, and the sight was both lovely and obscene. The plump mouth gave under the weight of another, the feeling of being kissed resonating within the boy even under such deep sleep. His mouth opened wide as an icy tongue dipped inside, a tender claim. His head was cradled, curls crushing under a gentle palm like it couldn’t bear to even bend a hair upon his head. 

  
  


Michael moaned into the specter’s mouth and it pulled away, afraid he’d hurt the mortal. 

  
  


The rougher specter was palming the boy’s covered cock, boxers hefted up high on his thighs as they were possessively squeezed.

  
  


_ He’s not a piece of meat. _

  
  


_ Mine. _

  
  


_ Ryan, please… _

  
  


A soft whine echoed through the room and was silenced by a low, wordless murmur. Michael’s hair was lovingly stroked, curls twisting over themselves. His mouth was taken in another kiss and the pink of his tongue flicked behind his teeth as it was so lovingly toyed with. 

  
  


_ You’ll lick the heat right out of him, sugar. _

  
  


_ He’s pure love.  _ It was a croon.  _ Sweetest little cherub giving us such warmth. _

  
  


Michael shifted restlessly with a little smile as a hand pet down his belly. A lilt cooed at him and the rubs turned more firm, massaging the supple skin, branding it with his spectral touch. The mortal’s breath hitched and it was like soft violins to their ears, two rattling exhales. Boxers slid up more and Michael made another sound as his ass was grabbed, fat cheek giving under a strong grip. They dipped in, skimming over a dry hole to make it twitch.

  
  


_ He’s such a responsive little doll. _

  
  


_ Our baby boy. Oh, Ryan, can we keep him? _

  
  


_ Yes, sugar, he’s all ours. _

  
  


Michael’s mouth dropped open and his brow drew up as his cock was squeezed. 

  
  


_ Don’t hurt him. _

  
  


_ You worry too much. This boy is strong.  _

  
  


Michael shivered and squirmed, cock throbbing in the cool grip. “Oh, fuck…” It was a sleepy murmur, nothing more, but the specter backed off.

  
  


_ I don’t want to leave him. _ Curls were smoothed back again for another tiny forehead kiss. 

  
  


_ Let him get his rest. He’ll need it. Come, Dan. _

  
  


The mortal chased off the kind hands that slid from his jaw, quietly seeking those unseen lips once more. Lashes flickered as the lamp’s light swelled up again. The Xbox flashed briefly before flicking on with a loud buzz. Michael groaned, dreams popping away like bubbles before his eyes cracked open. The light made him wince and he struggled to adjust, groaning in protest before he finally pried them open. 

  
  


“What the fuck?” Michael rubbed the heel of his palm into his eyes, using the other to sit up so he could try and look around. His Xbox was powering on and the TV was still going. His jaw cracked on a yawn and he scratched his bare belly, wondering briefly where the blanket was before he spotted the rumpled pile on the floor. He was freezing. There were chills running through his limbs and he almost wanted to unpack some clothes to layer up. 

  
  


Instead, he recovered himself and curled up. There was a strange feeling in the air but he was too exhausted to think too hard about it. The chills were chalked up to a belly full of butterflies from the new house. He buried his face in the back of the covered couch and breathed in the scent of laundry detergent and he faintest sour musk. 

  
  


With the light blocked out, Michael easily fell back under the tempting lull of sleep. 

  
  


~~~

  
  


Thick fingers snagged in Dan’s shirt before the younger felt a real, sincere  _ slam  _ against the wall. He gave a soft grunt, but was interrupted quickly by wet and stubbled lips sliding across his own in a rough, messy kiss. He took in a lungful of fresh air, inhaling all of the older ghost’s dusky scent before beginning to grab onto Ryan’s loose jacket. A knee locked firmly in place between his legs, giving a small grind against his hardening cock. 

  
  


Dan had to pull away in order to breathe and ultimately, they ended up panting with foreheads touching and their noses close together. 

  
  


“I thought we would never be able-” Dan was cut off by another kiss, this time short and sweet. Ryan’s hand began to palm over his cock harshly and he gave a lively moan. 

  
  


“ It’s the boy,” Ryan answered on edge, teeth grit to hold back a bite. “His heat is actually allowing us to  _ feel  _ like there’s fresh blood in our veins.” With his other hand, he pushed Dan’s head to the side, giving immediate and impatient kisses on his neck. The touch was no longer painful or cold, but  _ hot  _ and full of vigor. The young spirit felt his aching cock leaking with attention, just like when he was alive, and Ryan gave it to him. He shifted his legs over to allow Dan to rub his bulge against his, noises turning more desperate and needy. Ryan gave a little nip on Dan’s neck before he continued, “See what he does to us? God, we need him. We can’t keep on going like this unless he’s here.”

  
  


“H-he’s wonderful,” Dan agreed, his lips going slack when he felt another wonderful bite that he knew was capable of leaving a mark from how hungrily Ryan was sucking. If the marks would disappear later, he reveled in the sensation. “I don’t ever want him to leave, either. He’s so lush and beautiful and-”

  
  


“ And  _ ours _ ,” Ryan finished before he jerked the front of the spirit’s pants down. He smiled and licked his dry lips at how Dan’s cock sprang out, leaking with pride. He wrapped his hand around it, giving a couple of good strokes just to hear Dan croon like an angel. The flesh wasn’t as hot as it could’ve been but it was there, solid and almost alive in his hand. “And this is just from playing with the boy while he slept. Imagine what we could do when he actually takes our cocks? He’d feel so good swallowing me down with his tiny mouth or his hole being stretched tight around my cock.”

  
  


Dan whimpered from the image, wondering the same thing with himself. Being filled to the brim with the mortal’s lively seed or swallowing it down as if he were parched. “We would never be cold again from his rich, plush body,” he said against a mewl when sparks shot down his spine as the older increased his pace. They shared another deep kiss before Dan had slim fingers trying to work at the button on Ryan’s slacks, finally able to pry them open. Their tongues slipped between each other’s lips and cocks rubbing up against each other with deprived and anxious movements. 

  
  


“My gorgeous Dan,” Ryan huffed when they parted. He grabbed a hold of his chin, thumb bending down the younger’s bottom lip to show a pretty, bright pink of skin. “You won’t ever have to weep or be in pain ever again now that we have this boy. He’s a beautiful addition, one I want to keep here to keep us satisfied at all times.”

  
  


Dan nodded slow and obedient, tossing his head against the wall when Ryan had a holding grip on both of their lengths while they moved. “God, Ryan,” Dan cooed, a pulsing surge of pleasure coming over him and he could feel it too from the other. Ryan’s breaths soon turned into small grunts with each thrust and even muttering curses were sounded before held tight onto Dan’s shoulder

  
  


“It feels so fucking good,” he moaned, nails biting down and Dan yipped from the heightened feel. “It’s been so long, I won’t last long in that boy at all.”

  
  


The younger spirit gave an encouraging purr, nodding his head. “Me either from how full I’ll be from his seed.”

  
  


Those words hit him like a shot of pure sin and Ryan spilled over, teeth gnashing down on warm skin as cream shot out in spurts, waves of both heat and euphoria taking him over. It wasn’t long later before Dan was gripping onto Ryan’s jacket before he followed with a gush of his own, spitting out a strong “ _ Fuck _ !”

  
  


They found themselves covered in sticky heat that was rapidly cooling, smaller droplets already fading. Lips slid together in a loose, wet embrace that calmed them both more so than they had been in since they were alive. 

  
  


“And just like that,” Ryan huffed rubbing noses with the Brit. “You’ll never have to experience agony or loneliness again.” 

 

* * *

  
  


**Booze and I worked really hard on this. This is her forte, horror, and I'm just happy to be a part of this. We both just find this AU a lot of fun and we kind of started it off as a joke but then it evolved pretty far. Oops~ Feedback is always appreciate, ducklings!**

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has dreams and interactions with the spirits that live in his house. But he's really deep in denial. Like the classic horror movie teen.

**[Dan's backstory](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4212744) is started, so you can check that out <3 **

** All comments are eagerly devoured by Booze and Mono because we are thirsty for feedback ^^;; **

 

* * *

 

 

The house needed more repair than he could count. When Michael wasn’t at his actual utility job, he was assessing the damage in his new home. The costs would rack up if he wasn’t careful about it. He made a digital list of all the major jobs that would need to be done and then broke that list down on a floor-by-floor basis, and from there made smaller branches for all the individual steps. If he ever decided to sell, decided he’d go away above asking price just because it was a pain in the ass.  

  
  


But he wasn’t living with his asshole parents anymore, and that was better than anything. 

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


Michael settled into bed later than usual. He’d caught himself at three AM catching up on gameplays and achievement hunting, losing the time until he happened to look on his phone. As soon as the lights were out and the covers were over his head, sleep fell over him, the world blinking out like a light switch being flipped. The house settled noisily around him - floorboards creaking, faulty units whirring softly, and even some tapping on the walls. He ignored them and when his eyes fell shut, he was asleep.

  
  


~

  
  


Michael felt something tickling at his feet and he groaned. “No, not now. Just...got to bed,” he muttered. 

  
  


“But I’m lonely,” answered a gentle voice. Michael looked up without alarm to see a figure right beside him and he nearly jumped. The house was dark and quiet with the only sound being their breathing. Michael was more confused than frightened and he sat up on the cushions to get a better view. 

  
  


“Who are you?”

  
  


The figure raised an eyebrow before making himself comfortable to sit down, arm slinging over Michael’s shoulders to pull him close. “You don’t know me?” he asked. The other’s voice sounded heartbroken and made Michael’s heart pang with guilt. 

  
  


Michael looked at the man with wide, puppy eyes before scanning him. In reality, he didn’t know the man, but as soon as he got a good look at him, he could feel that love and amenity. The other was a young, strapping fellow with a bit of muscle, but mostly thin. His eyes were dark, but still had an aura to them that allowed Michael to grow comfortable and with a small, faded smile, he nodded. There was a sense of security that came from this man and affection rose in the Lad’s heart so much so they he took a hold of the other’s hand. 

  
  


“Of course I do.”

  
  


“I knew you’d remember me, my love,” the other man cooed, coming close. “I’ve been so lonely without you. It’s cold without your warmth, don’t you know?”

  
  


“I do,” the Lad lied, legs spanning slightly. “Well, I’m here,” he purred with a grin. “Let me warm you.” 

  
  


They both shared a laugh, faces coming close before smiling lips grazed across each other. It was heated and affectionate - only something that Michael felt when he was around a lover. Michael laid back against the couch, pulling the other man with him until his head bumped against the armrest and his back was against the cushions once again. 

  
  


“My wonderful Michael,” the other cooed before finally planting a kiss onto the Lad’s lips. Michael took it gratefully, eyes closing to relish the taste that belonged to the other being. For the life of him, Michael couldn’t give a name for his lover, but as soon as his fingers slipped inside the dark, raven locks of the man, a voice whispered in his ear.

  
  


_ Daniel… _

  
  


“Oh, Daniel,” Michael gasped when they parted, and the other giggled with his knees shifting to the sides of the Lad. Kisses were still met until Michael felt Dan leave him for a split second only to return with more pecking smooching that trailed down his neck, onto his chest, and finally to his stomach. Heat rose in the pit of Michael’s groin and he gave a slight gasp when he felt fingers folding into the hem of his boxers. “What are you doing, hon?”

  
  


“Hush,” Dan smiled, quickly slipping off the underwear to where Michael’s half hardened cock was exposed, laying flat against his skin. “Let me spoil you. After all, it’s what I do best, isn’t it, love? I’ve only got my tight, little mouth for you; it’s all I’m useful for.” He gave a painfully put upon wink and it made his stomach bottom out.

  
  


The Lad gasped, about to give words of protest before it was too late. Hot, petaled lips mouthed over his blushing pink tip and the man slid down, able to fit all of the Lad’s length in his mouth. Michael nearly choked on air, eyes growing wide and his head slamming back into the armrest. This lovely being was sucking him off before his very eyes, and he barely knew how to handle it. 

  
  


“ _ D _ - _ Dan _ ,  _ oh- _ ”  Michael felt his cock flush with blood to allow it to harden fully to life, still having Dan’s playful tongue licking all over it. Light and tender fingers were massaging over his sac and he crooned, toes curling in bliss. The other was now bobbing his head in a rhythmic way that would hypnotize any man and Michael was  _ taken _ , nails dragging against the couch under them both and shameful moans filling the air. He was so sensitive and already so close and with each peak of the movements, Michael’s thighs were trembling. “B-babe...I’m gonna come,” he whimpered.

  
  


There was no sound from Dan, nor was there any slow to his movements. Lashes kissed his cheekbones, only fluttering open to look at Michael with big and greedy orbs. His lips were tight around the Lad’s length, tongue swirling with skill that made Michael gasp for more air. One more lick, and the boy was done, whining loudly and sitting up in order to grab at Dan’s hair. 

  
  


“You sweet, little thing, you,” he moaned as he came. His fingers held tight onto the other’s scalp, digging deep to keep him there, but there was no need. Dan hummed happily, drinking all that Michael had to give with a satisfied purr. 

  
  


With heavy gasps, Michael opened his eyes to see that he was holding no one, and that Dan had vanished right before his very eyes. 

  
  


~~~

  
“ What are you doing?”

  
  


Dan ignored the other spirit’s words and kept his vigil near the entrance hall to watch over Michael as he slept. Ryan called his name, tried to get his attention, but he didn’t give him a hint of recognizing him. 

  
  


“Two can play at that game, Daniel.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Michael admitted to himself that the dream was more than bizarre, but he didn’t think much of it. He woke up to a softening dick and his blankets completely ruined and needing of a good wash, but other than that, Michael waved it off as another notorious wet dream that he hadn’t had in a while. He couldn’t even remember the guy’s name, whoever it was. Just dark hair and doe eyes.

  
  


After yet another day came up of trying to calculate the damages that the house needed, he sighed, realizing that he could only focus on the much needed fixes while the other minor damages could wait for a while. He knew the house was a fixer-upper when he’d bought it, but there was a lot more assessment than he’d originally thought. 

  
  


The day wasn’t too long, but he cut it short when coming home from his work. His shift wasn’t  _ that  _ long or strenuous, but upon entering the house he felt no less than settled and  _ tired _ . He called it an early day and decided to hop on the couch to rest while playing a peaceful game of Minecraft for the rest of the night. The house made a couple more noises, but none of which that caught his attention in particular, but it all soon turned into a lullaby that made his eyes droopy. With a yawn, he paused the game, put down the controller and just stared at the TV for a little while, admiring his builds. 

  
  


Before he knew it, he was out.

  
  


~

  
  


“ Now, look at this. You think you’re so cute, do you?” asked a voice in his ear. Michael felt hands running all over his thighs, and he gasped when he realized that he was standing up, fingers fanned aimlessly against the wall. He recognized the room to be his kitchen and behind him was a figure. It wasn’t his sweet Daniel ( _ God, how could I forget him? _ ), but it was another - a bigger, more built man that had thick fingers trailing all over his frame. He blushed heavily and only nodded, falling into the groove almost perfectly as he cooed when the man touched a particular spot on his lower back. 

  
  


“Y-yes, sir,” Michael answered, looking back over his shoulder. He saw a taller man hovering over him, blond locks covering his face until he looked up at the boy to reveal that he had oceanic blue eyes. There was a crooked and devious smile that played the man’s lips before he snagged the boy’s chin. He pulled, causing Michael to strain and whine, but other than that there was no real pain. 

  
  


“Turn around. I wanna look at my prize,” the man gruffed, hands finally lifting off of Michael’s hips. The boy obediently turned to face the other, back now touching the wall and his ass following through. There was a possessive growl from the other at the action, and rough hands were already all over his frame again to pull him close. Michael gasped when his body was snatched off, thighs pressing into the front of the man’s and their stomachs touching close. “So small, aren’t you? Remind me of my dame.”

  
  


Michael cooed and closed his eyes in a heated blush, figuring that the statement was a compliment. He wanted to thank the man, but he was cut off with a harsh  _ squeeze _ on his waist, fingers quick to travel back to massage around the curvature of his ass. Michael felt no less than  _ owned _ , but he didn’t want to say that he wasn’t enjoying it. A solid, content hum was sounded from the man and he pushed the Lad towards him until they actually bumped noses. 

  
  


“Soft,” was the only word that he said before he had Michael in an opened, deep kiss that was pinched off with teeth. The Lad moaned, fingers finding their way to the chiseled chin that belonged to the man, a whisper sweeping across his ear just like the night before with his mysterious lover.

  
  


_ Ryan _ …

  
  


Michael was breathless when they parted, thick, opened hands now cupping over his ass and giving another ripe squeeze. The Lad gave a squeak, closing his eyes tightly as his head tilted back from the grope. He hissed from the slight stinging pain, but when his lips were met again in another kiss, it all seemed to fade away. Everything about this man screamed how much Michael was  _ his _ and the boy adored it.

  
  


There was a smooth grind against his cock from the latter and Michael gave a shiver when he felt it. His cock was already hardening in interest to the movements and the snatching fingers against his ass wasn’t helping at all. He gave a soft mewl, keeping quiet as the other man continued to pepper his touches all over him.

  
  


“What are you doing?” Michael asked with a soft tone; any louder and he thought that the being would become angry, but to his delight there was only a rumble. The Lad could feel another sweeping kiss on his forehead as the ghost pulled him close again, forcing him to turn right back around until his face met with the wall again. He gasped sharply, hands curling into fists when he suddenly felt the man all over him, fingers raking down his sides and grinding against the plush of his ass. It was too fast, too sudden, and his cock jumped at the thrill. “W-wait!”

  
  


“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ryan growled, a hand wrapping its way around the Lad’s throat. It didn’t squeeze, but it made Michael tremble, a shocking wave of fear traveling down his body that was chased with a shiver of pure lust. He wished desperately for the man to bare down but he didn’t and a disappointed whine escaped his lips. 

  
  


Michael held onto the wall for dear life, not wanting to move or do anything that the man didn’t tell him too. The urge to be ordered around, t o be pinned, was strong. He heard a rough growl, thick fingers folding themselves over the hem of his boxers before they were drug down rough and with ease, fingers spanning over the warmth of his skin. The Lad nearly yelped in a panic, breathless with excitement and dark anticipation. “No!”

  
  


“ _ Stop! _ ”  Michael could hear another voice call out. His eyes went wide, heart racing and pumping endorphins through his body so much so that he nearly collapsed to the floor, muscles turning to jelly. He felt truly scared, but he realized that Ryan wasn’t going to do anything more than touch him and he calmed, looking over his shoulder. Ryan was gone.

  
  


~

  
  


When Michael awoke, it was with a cold sweat and heaving breath. He felt all over his body for some kind of injury and sighed in relief when he realized that it had just been a dream, just like the night before except more ruthless and  _ harsh _ . 

  
  


“Hello?” he called out in the air, just to make sure that he was actually awake this time. 

  
  


He looked to see that his TV was still playing the soft, whimsical music that belonged to Minecraft. His game still on pause and the controller still in its place, left untouched. Only then did he relax, grabbing both the controller and the T.V remote to turn off the console and the set. 

  
  


“It was just a dream,” he convinced himself, laying back down on the couch and laying the covers over him. The sun hadn’t risen and the room was still dark, so he focused on trying to get back to sleep and make himself comfortable on the couch, but it was difficult.

  
  


The other voice still rung in his head, clear as day and it kept him awake. The dream was already fading but the voices stayed. It sounded familiar, something that Michael had heard before but he couldn’t recall where. The thought wouldn’t let him drift back to a peaceful sleep and he focused on it even more. 

  
  


After thinking about it, Michael sat up with wide eyes, his lips pursed tight with a frown. 

  
  


The voice belonged to his mysterious lover from his previous dream last night -  _ Daniel _ .

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


“What does iron look like again?” Michael asked as he readjusted his headset. He needed to get a new one but he couldn’t justify it until he actually couldn’t hear or be heard through it anymore. He could hear Geoff, Griffon, and Gavin all laughing at him through the other end. They were all pretty drunk and it was the third time he’d asked. He giggled at himself and took another heavy swig of beer. Tasting dregs, he just finished it off. It joined its two fallen brothers on the floor. He was folded up on the couch with Minecraft on the TV, controller clicking loudly as he mashed it to mine what he was pretty sure was iron. He’d been tempted to invite his friends over but the place wasn’t remotely presentable and he kind of thought of Geoff and Griffon as weird foster parents now that his own were out of the picture. He didn’t want to bring them to an unfinished house with barely any furniture. 

  
  


So sitting in nothing but an old wife beater and basketball shorts? That was just as good. 

  
  


A sudden thump startled Griffon and made Gavin yelp.  
  
  
“ _ Michael! _ ”  Gavin screeched over the headset. “ _ What the bloody hell was that? _ ”

  
  


“Dunno’,” Michael drawled as he tried to get the dimensions to his house right. “This place is old as dicks, dude.” His fingers stilled and his brow furrowed as he heard another, softer thump. He reluctantly lowered the headphones down around his neck and cocked his head, eyes dulling as he focused solely on listening. Something was rolling along the floor upstairs.

  
  


“Uh.” Michael frowned. “Guys, I need to go check this out.”

  
  


“ _ Michael, wait _ .” Geoff’s stern tone made him pause. “ _ Maybe you should call the police. Wait outside the house _ .”

  
  


“It’s more dangerous on the street than in here,” Michael pointed out as he eased off the couch and stood. “I’m going to be right back, and I’ll take my cell. If there’s someone in the house I’ll bolt and call the cops. But it’s probably a bird or a squirrel or a fucking cat up there.”

  
  


“ _ Be careful _ ,” Griffon stated, sounding just as concerned as her husband. 

  
  


“I will be,” he promised softly. “Mogar out.”

  
  


He heard Geoff bitching about him not taking home intrusion seriously before he laid the headset on the table among a litter of candy wrappers. He kept his eyes on the stairs and crept over to the small entrance hall where his late uncle’s baseball bat was. It was one of the things his aunt had given him, along with a set of dishes. He had a second, smaller one in the room that would be his bedroom when he got his shit together. 

  
  


Michael snagged the bat and started up the stairs, keeping his steps as light as he could. The stairs were mercifully quiet. He got to the second floor and he was sure his heart was going to beat it’s way out of his chest. It was pounding so hard it hurt, his ears swamped with the sound. He swallowed thickly and counted all the closed doors. There were four bedrooms and one bath on this floor and he suddenly hated how big the place was. He put on his game face and braced himself with a wide stance.

  
  


“Listen here, motherfucker, I called the police!” Michael lied with conviction. “You’ve got less than five minutes to drop whatever the fuck you stole and jump out a window and maybe you won’t wind up in jail.”

  
  


Nothing, no sound at all. Michael grit his teeth and decided to just go for it.  _ How about a little noise to shake you out. _ He came up to the first bedroom and swung open the door as quickly as he could, resettling his bat in an aggressive stance that he hoped was intimidating. The room was dusty and filled with broken pieces of an old chair and not much else. He moved on to the next room, throwing it open and giving a growl. It too was mercifully empty of anything but cobwebs and shadows. It was the smallest of the bedrooms, more like a walk-in closet than anything. The last room in the hall had a cracked door and it sent panic into his chest, but he didn’t run. 

  
  


Michael delivered a swift heel kick and readied his bat but there were only a few pieces of covered furniture waiting for him. He huffed in frustration and lowered the weapon.  _ I should move that couch to the living room.   _

  
  


There were two more room and they were around the corner at the end of the hall. His room and the bathroom. He eased down the hall, mindful of creaky floorboards in case there truly was someone there. Keeping his eyes on his bedroom, he twisted the knob to the bathroom and eased it open with his hip. From this angle he could see the mirror and the room was empty.

  
  


_ Fuck. _

  
  


Michael twisted the knob and gave it a quick push. “Get the fuck out!”

  
  


His words rang through the dark room. It was the only room with proper curtains and very little streetlight seeped through. He groped blindly for the light switch as he scanned the room but he couldn’t really make out anything solid. He knew the place was still a mess of boxes and disassembled bedframe but that didn’t mean those shadows weren’t malicious. One of the boxes that had been on his bed was toppled over on the floor, he could see that much from the streaks of light through the open door.

  
  


“Fuck you, asshole!” Michael barked, taking a few cautious steps inside. “I’ve got nothing here to steal, as you’ve probably fucking noticed. So you can just crawl out the window you came in.” A floorboard creaked and he flared up, fight-or-flight kicking in. “Get out!”

  
  


There was a faint cry at first that sounded far away but it swelled in volume until he winced. The bat was dragged out of his hands and he was stunned, eyes widening comically before he was thrown against the wall. Michael gasped hoarsely but it turned into a surprised wheeze when sudden pressure hit him. He shuddered at the wash of cold and tried to push off the wall but his wrists were seized, dragged up above his head.

  
  


_ How cute _ , drawled a faintly heard, rugged voice.

  
  


“ What the fuck?” Michael whined, eyes darting everywhere. There was  _ no one _ . He sucked in an icy breath and stared dumbly at how he could see the exhale. He pulled at the unseen grip as panic swelled in his chest, his brain seizing up as what he felt and what he saw clashed. It was like someone was pressed tight against him, the broad plane of a chest and the solid weight of hips against his own. Unyielding hands kept his wrists flat against the wall and it made his heart clench in a bolt of pure fear.  He pulled against the hold, but it was no use. He was pinned tightly so much so that he gave up quickly.

  
  


Something pressed between his legs. He vaguely registered that it felt like a thigh before his mouth was taken. He gawked at nothing at all while something like lips slotted against his own, forcing his mouth open wide under an icy touch.  At first, he felt as if he were being choked, unable to pull away or breathe more than the small puffs he got through his nose. He felt movement against his skin; a freezing friction that sent goosebumps to pepper all over his skin and give him chills that shook him to the very core.

  
  


_ Submit. _

  
  


His  puzzled  moan was muffled as his groin was rubbed on, giving sweet friction that made his cock twitch in interest. The force on his wrists grew flat, untextured, and then his chest was shamelessly groped at. His legs kicked from the sudden grasp, not knowing if he was going to be hurt or not, but when it felt like the butt of a palm was giving him a smooth massage over the pecs, he calmed. His mouth was still smothered in a phantom kiss but he could feel his shirt bunching up, nipples getting caught in a vice that made him harden.

  
  


Finally, he was released, head being forced to the side just to feel ice run down his neck in short and quick intervals. It took a moment for Michael to find his breath, but when he did all he could do was give a small curse.

  
  


“ Wh-What…?” Michael's breath  quivered  as his lower lip was bit at.  Whatever cold force was doing this to him, Michael had to admit that it was touching in all the right places. He felt sick with adrenaline and grossly turned on, confused, aroused and horrified all at once.  A wave of energy passed through him, and he rolled his hips with a loud, embarrassingly high pitched moan. He lost himself for a second or two before he opened his eyes once again to see no visible force, but still his shirt was matted and bunched up against him enough to reveal blushing pink and hardened nipples.  His breath crystallized in front of him and he wasn’t sure if he'd pass out, come, or piss himself - maybe all three. Something brushed his ear.

  
  


_ Do not try to order me around, little boy. You will lose. _

  
  


Michael was more than afraid, when those words were said. The voice was heard as clear as day and he tried to convince himself that he was hallucinating or caught in a dream, but soon felt  _ pain _ . A flurry of what felt like teeth were all over his skin and Michael gave a girlish, pitiful cry. 

  
  


Hands slipped under his shirt and slid over his chest, fingertips digging in. Michael’s very heart seized as his insides shuddered under a violent frost and then everything went very dark.

  
  


o0o 

  
  


“Michael? Oh bloody fucking hell.”

  
  


“I told you we should have called the police!”

  
  


“Shut up, Geoff. Even if we’d called we would’ve beat them here. Give the kid some space.” A soft hand with lotioned callouses cupped his cheek and he sighed at the familiar touch. “Michael? Sweetheart, can you hear me? How bad does it hurt on a scale of one to ten?”

  
  


“Griffon,” Michael breathed in relief, eyes fighting to open and fight off the darkness. “Four. Mostly ego pain.” He finally cracked open his eyes and she was smiling in pure relief down at him, mussed and in pjs but as gorgeous as always. 

  
  


“Yeah, he’s fine.”

  
  


“What happened, buddy?” Geoff fussed, wrapping an arm under the boy’s head to help him sit up. Michael groaned and leaned into him as he tried to get his bearings. He rubbed his sore head and blinked at his three friends. Gavin looked downright pale. “We came over when we didn’t hear from you after half an hour.”

  
  


“Jesus.” Michael scowled.

  
  


“Was there someone here? Did they knock you out?” Griffon needled.

  
  


“I...don’t think so?” he frowned and felt through his hair to make sure there wasn’t any blood. Nothing in particular hurt, just an ache that echoed through his whole body. “I had some fucked up dream.”

  
  


“No one hit you?” Griffon frowned, getting a head shake. “There wasn’t anyone here?”

  
  


“Maybe,” Michael relented. “I didn’t see anyone. Maybe they were and pushed past me and I hit my head or something and I just don’t remember that part.” He felt again at his head. “But I don’t feel like I got knocked out.”

  
  


“Maybe it was over-excitement?” Griffon tisked in concern, hand coming up to feel his head before tilting his head up to look into his eyes. “I bet your heart was beating so hard you couldn’t think straight. Maybe at the first sign that your fears were real, you passed out? Stress and adrenaline can do a lot of things to the human body.” 

  
  


Michael could recall a phantom rasp, a voice - a timber but no memorable words. He dug his palm into his eyes and laughed. “What a fucked up dream. Jesus. I have to stop watching shitty Netflix horror movies.”

  
  


Gavin laid his hand on his friend’s leg and frowned. “What did you dream, boi?”

  
  


“Nothin’. You guys mind if I lock up and stay at your house tonight?”

  
  


Three faces lit up in relief and he slumped into Geoff, mumbling thanks as he took a real moment to catch his breath.

  
  


o0o

  
  


The attic began to vibrate with swelling energy as soon as Michael got in the Ramseys’ car and disappeared from sight. The car was barely around the corner before the covered, standing mirror was toppled over. 

  
  


“ Why would you do that?” Dan wailed, snatching the sheet up and shredding it with sharp fingers. He was using up all the sparse energy he’d sucked up from Michael but he didn’t care. “You’ll drive him away! The first time he’s awake and you  _ hurt  _ him! Now, he’s gone! Another one -  _ gone _ , ”  he seethed.

  
  


Ryan winced, staying near the window to keep an eye on the street unless Michael came back. “He’s fine. He’s a strong boy.”

  
  


“ You’ll break him,” Dan whined into the shreds. “I had rip you from his dreams because you were trying to rut him like a dog! You’ll scare our sweet angel away and it’ll be like it was and Michael will never know how much we love him.  We’ll never have anyone to love and it’ll be your fault! I can’t have another one lost, especially not from you  _ again _ ! ”

  
  


“Dan-”

  
  


_ I won’t go back to the dark! _

  
  


Ryan drew back. Dan’s lips hadn’t moved and his eyes had bleached white, dark veins creeping along the corners and down onto his cheeks, into his hairline. He looked feral  \- wicked and  _ wild _ . Ryan often forgot his dame was cold, impudent fury barely contained in the form of a doe eyed kitten.  The air between them was as cold as Arctic winds and Ryan clenched his fists, hoping that the anger would go away soon. It was rare he ever saw Dan like this; the last time that he did experience his anger like this was when they realized that they no longer could share a hot, living touch from each other. A few more crucial and tense seconds went by , and just like that, it was over. Dan drew back in on himself like moonflower in a sunray, hugging himself and ducking his head. He sobbed roughly, one hand coming up to press to his eyes.

  
  


“ My boy, my angel boy,” he murmured sadly , breathing in a sniffle with the threat of stinging tears in his eyes. The thought that their only key to happiness, their only guide to warmth and hot blood to run through their veins and allow them to feel, was  _ gone _ . “I’m so tired of love being taken from me,” he hissed, running the back of his hand against his eyes to gather up any tears. 

  
  


“Dan, my sugar dame,” Ryan tried, hand reaching out as he took a step closer.

  
  


“ If you ruin this, I’ll destroy you ,” Dan spat, tone as sharp as a knife.

  
  


The words were low and cold, sobs cutting out so quickly that it made Ryan sick to his stomach. Being around the mortal this much had caused him to feel quite a few things, old emotions and sensations returning, but this was not one he wanted to indulge in. 

  
  


“Forgive me,” he muttered with a tinge of true fear. 

  
  


“Get out,” Dan demanded in that same icy tone. “Leave my sight.”

  
  


Thought Ryan trembled at being forced away from his lover, he obeyed, truly terrified of what the other specter was capable of. There was something sharp under all those velvety wrappings and he had managed all this time without unveiling them. If he could manage, he never wanted to see what kind of whirlwind lived inside Dan’s soul.

  
  


Especially not with a warm, human battery to power him.

  
  


~~~~~

  
  


Michael had his head under the sink when the first thump happened. He thought he’d imagined and had written it off instantly as the house settling. But when he wiggled out from under the pipes to grab another pair of pliers there was a sharper thump, a spatter of sounds like things falling to the floor. Broken glass.

  
  


“Motherfucker,” Michael spat, adrenaline pumping hot and sudden through him. He bolted to the entrance hall and snagged his bat, racing up the stairs and clinging to the rail to swing swiftly around and immediately start up the second set of stairs that led to the attic door and a half bath, a broom closet filled with nothing but cobwebs. “You the same fuck as before? I’ll kill you, asshole!”

  
  


Michael climbed the steps as fast as he could, stumbling twice before grabbing the knob and slamming his shoulder into the door. He burst into the attic with a ferocious growl and his bat at the ready. The whole floor was still something he hadn’t touched, cobwebs thick in the ceiling and corners, every piece of furniture and box covered by sheets. Some old, some new. One stack of boxes had been toppled over and the contents were spewed all over the floor. Sun poured in through every window, cutting through white curtains to show off all the dust that had been kicked up. 

  
  


Michael scoffed and laid the bat on the nearest covered table. “Fucking squirrels.”

  
  


Michael kept grumbling about the horrible vermin and how he needed to personally go over the roof to close up all the holes he knew were hiding in the nooks and crannies. He walked over to pick up the boxes and frowned down at the pile of stuff. He’d stored a few boxes of his junk up here and covered them but these he’d never seen before. This was something that had come with the house, something he’d never paid attention to before. 

  
  


At first it looked like junk. Old newspapers, dead bugs, tissue paper, and a shit ton of letters. They had been covered up alright but some were in shreds, ripped clean in half, and others just horribly crumbled up. There had to be more than fifty all together. He knelt down and sifted through them with a gentle hand, afraid they’d disintegrate. They all seemed to be post marked from the mid-twenties. There were two types of handwriting - one soft and loopy, the other with harsher lines and more prominent ink. 

  
  


Naturally curious, he picked up one and started to read.

  
  


_ Sweet Adam,  
It has only been a week apart but it feels like a lifetime without your kisses to slake my thirst, without your touch to sustain me. We truly got away with our meeting, no one knows how my heart aches for you. I promised to write you, and I am, but I found I have nothing to say. We stayed up all those nights talking, it was so easy with you, and now looking at this paper all I can imagine is you here with me. I don’t know what on earth to talk about, what to say about my dull little life here.  _

  
  


“ ‘I am already dreaming of being in your bed once more’,” Michael read aloud, brow furrowing up. “ ‘With love, your Daniel.’ ”

  
  


The name rang through his head, echoing, tapping against his dreams and bringing them back full force. The sweet, warm kisses and the familiarity, as if they’d been been together for years instead of the few seconds it took to have a dream.  _ No, it’s stupid coincidence. Daniel is a super common name. _

  
  


Michael blindly grabbed another letter.

  
  


“ ‘Darling Adam, the days grow longer without you to pass the time. I dream often of your brief stay in England. How the sheets smelled of us, how your skin felt on mine. True paradise, touched and lost.’ “ Michael huffed. “Jesus Christ. What a fucking idiot.” There was no venom in his words, only secret longing. To have those kinds of words written about him was just a fantasy, something that only could have existed back then. If someone messaged him those same words right now, he would’ve ran for the hills and called the police. 

  
  


The letters  _ to  _ this Daniel weren’t nearly as flowery. Some of them were downright crude, talking about his firm ass and how he “rode him like a proper little cowboy”. He blushed at some of it. 

  
  


_ Darling Daniel, _

_ I’m going crazy without you. Here, I’m barely even to contain myself without having your tight sheath to slide into, clutching me so nice. It’s driving me wild of how far apart we are. The way I wrap my arms around your thin frame makes me feel so fulfilled and satisfied. Don’t even get me started on those plump, squeezing lips. All I dream about is being able to grab you again, rocking into your sweet hole. I expect to have you on your knees whenever I see you again. _

_ Adam. _

  
  


Michael flushed at those words for more than one reason. “What a fucking dickbag.”  _ He gives you pure romance and you talk about his ass? Fucking perv. _

  
  


Michael sorted through the letters, gently stacking them to wrap up again, and when he moved a stack of envelopes there was something underneath. A pocketwatch, maybe gold and with engravings. He tried to open it but it was stuck, the button unmoving.  _ Kovic  _ was scrawled across the back with an insignia. He ran his thumb over it, frowning, and wondered why it was so chilled. 

  
  


He righted the box and started placing stacks of paper back inside, being extra careful with the letters to show Griffon later. He grabbed a fistful of newspaper and hissed, fingers stinging. He yanked them back, little ruby drops blooming up. Michael peeled back the moth-eaten newspaper and found a broken picture frame.  _ That must have been the sound I heard.  _ It was in pieces with shards scattered all over the place, hidden under more letters.

  
  


Michael grabbed the exposed edge of the picture and shook it free, bits of frame and glass falling away. He stared at it with a slow burn of distress. There were two men in the picture standing in front of a jazz band set up. One was broad and tall with a strong jaw, a solemn expression on his handsome face. The other man was shorter with a shock of messy dark hair and a smooth jaw, the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal the jut of his collar. He looked much more casual, more relaxed with a pretty smile curling his mouth. He looked like there was nowhere he’d rather be. 

  
  


Michael’s mouth dropped open dumbly. “Daniel?”

  
  


There was a choked, ugly sob behind him. It didn’t sound like a regular cry - rougher, echoing. The floorboards groaned and Michael quickly shifted his weight, sitting on his knees as he tried not to put a strain on any one place.  _ Jesus, is this house falling apart or-? _

  
  


The thought cut out as what felt like hands slid along his waist. He froze, breath coming in a rough shudder as he watched his shirt bunch up under some unseen force. It felt so much like fingers, he swore he could almost feel them, but there was  _ nothing. _ The shirt slid up above his belly button, a more solid weight embracing him as pressure laid across his back. Michael shivered and he could see the faintest cloud of his breath, goosebumps breaking up all over his skin. He could see the harsh bumps cropping up over his exposed belly and then the slow indention on the flesh as it was pressed down on.

  
  


_ Don’t go, please…  _ the whisper was faint, and he wouldn’t have heard it at all if the figure wasn’t right on him.

  
  


There was no mistaking that it was a cheek rubbing against his shoulder. The sobs grew louder and he could feel something shaking against him, a chest heaving against him. Whispers filled Michael’s hair, so low and rasping that he couldn’t pick them apart. He couldn’t understand the words but the tone was desperate, sharp, begging to be understood.

  
  


_ Adam. _

  
  


The name was wailed, fading in and out as the voice droned it. Michael choked on his words and tried not to move, paralyzed, unsure what the fuck was going on. His fingers were trembling as they slowly inched towards his exposed stomach but he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t bare to find out if he would feel something there or not.  He was more than frightened and confused, but he stood completely still, becoming afraid that the being would get angry if he were to resist or move away. Michael swore he could faintly recall the voice, the same man that was both in the picture and in his dream -  _ Daniel _ , but he didn’t know for sure.

  
  


The whispers swelled louder and he winced, sparks of pain lighting up in his temples. Something brushed his neck. A mouth - lips and stubble, though he was sure he was alone. All at once, like a door being slammed, the whispers collapsed into themselves and peaked into one, singular voice that he instantly , and most definitely recognized.

  
  


_ Oh, Michael, I miss him sometimes. _

  
  


Michael would deny later how loudly he screamed as he kicked off the floor and launched himself out of the unseen grip. Glass shredded past his fingers but he barely felt it as he stumbled away from the boxes and into the nearest window. He whipped around and pressed his back to the glass, eyes darting all over the empty attic for some sign of an intruder.

  
  


An agonized cry moaned through the very floor itself and Michael winced, turning his head away from the gush of wind that swept through the attic. The window behind him was thrown up, curtains fluttering wildly.  Michael’s heart was roaring in his ears, thudding harshly and made him frantic from the high of endorphins that came from the fear. 

  
  


_ Michael, please. _

  
  


“Fuck this!”

  
  


Michael grit his teeth and bolted, passing through what felt like a puff of pure frost before he made his break for the door. He grabbed the door frame and swung around, lopping down a few steps like a clumsy colt before even daring to look over his shoulder. He trembled as the attic rumbled before a low  _ whoosh  _ slammed the door shut. Michael jumped back and nearly toppled down the steps, both hands clenched tight on the railing as he stared at the door. His chest heaved for rough, noisy breaths as he struggled to comprehend what his senses had just taken in.

  
  


Michael gaped like a fish for a few moments before one thought finally sputtered out.  _ I left my bat up there. _

  
  


“I’ll just buy a new one.”

  
  


He honestly didn’t recognize the small, strained voice as his own. When he looked down at his hands they were trembling violently, barely able to flex into fists.

  
  


“Fuck.”

  
  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds out the truth of what's in his house and it's the beginning of the end, in one way or another.

** Reposted after a mass edit. Sorry about any confusion. **

 

* * *

The attic incident haunted him for days afterward, sleep nearly impossible even in his newly made bed in his room. He wouldn’t go back up there, he couldn’t, so he stayed as far away as he could. He even considered boarding it up but he didn’t want to do anything drastic. A week went by with no incidents, no sounds, not even a creepy dream beyond reliving the horrible moment. By the time the weekend came around again, he’d half convinced himself he’d made it up.

  
  


Daniel being real...that could only have been a coincidence. Daniel was a common name in general, and seeing that picture...maybe he’d projected. After a lot of obsessing he figured the man in the picture had probably just been dark haired with brown hair and he’d just put a familiar face to it. 

  
  


He wasn’t crazy. Just lonely. He’d dreamed up the perfect lover and now he just wanted to find him in the real world. A musty attic with boxes of old stuff didn’t mean shit.  _ This crap only happens in horror movies. I need to calm the fuck down. I just need some company. _

  
  


And he couldn’t think of anyone better than Ray.

  
  


~~~

  
  


The knock on the door shouldn’t have startled Michael like it did, but as soon as he heard the familiar, light voice that belonged to his friend, he smiled. “This is the police. Open the door, bitch!”

  
  


Michael came close, the house giving soft creaks underneath his feet with each step he made towards the door. As it swung open, the bright light of midday streamed in and revealed the familiar, kind face that belonged to his friend.

  
  


“ ‘sup, Ray?” Michael asked, offering Ray to come inside. In the younger male’s hands held another Xbox controller, a two liter bottle of Dr. Pepper, a case of Monster, and a family size bag of Doritos. “Jesus, you planning to stay over for a couple days?”

  
  


“Whatever’s cool with you,” Ray answered, shoving his tongue against the cool, thin ring that hung on the inside of his lip. They were snakebites, something that Michael absolutely loved whenever he got them. Once inside, he nodded as he looked around. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said this house was ancient.”

  
  


“Yeah, so there’s gonna be some noises, but nothing too bad. I might thing I have a squirrel up here or something, the little fucker.” Michael took some of the items that Ray had and set them on the side. “You wanna go ahead and put these babies in the fridge?” he asked, holding up a couple cans of the Monster. 

  
  


“Sure thing,” Ray said and kicked off his shoes before plopping onto the couch. He pulled out a couple of games ranging from COD, GTA, Borderlands, and Fallout 3. “You in the mood for any of these? Or are you gonna be a wuss again and want to do Grifball on Halo 4?” 

  
  


“I’d beat your ass at any of that,” Michael sneered when he returned. “Anything sounds good to me.”

  
  


Ray popped out the disc of COD and tossed the others away. “Keeping it basic,” he claimed and gave the game to Michael for him to shove in. 

  
  


The first few rounds were head to head, Michael always yelling very loudly whenever he got killed by the opposite team, or even by Ray. Friendly fire was on, and nothing made the older Lad madder than getting shot at by Ray, even if it was very funny. At one point, wagering took place between them, loser having to down shots. Ray was lucky enough to remain sober for the next three rounds until he had his own string of loses and had to painfully take the shots, himself. 

  
  


“I didn’t know you were a pro at this when you drank,” he coughed when he set the glass down, wincing from the pain. He would never get used to it, but soon his head was swimming happily and his entire body felt the warmth that came from the whiskey. 

  
  


“You’d be surprise,” Michael laughed with a wide grin, eyes falling back on Ray from time to time and his attention on the Xbox grew less and less. 

  
  


Finally, it was clear that they were both finished with the games, especially when Ray had crawled his way close to the boy to plant a soft, numbing kiss on Michael’s lips. The soon bands of metal against the older Lad’s skin made him croon in delight, shifting over so that Ray was fully on top of him, arms snaking upward to wrap fully around Michael’s neck. 

  
  


“ ‘s the door locked?” Michael asked, receiving a laugh from the other. 

  
  


“I’m sure it is,” he answered and gave Michael another kiss. Michael moaned into it, his own palms finding a way down Ray’s back, messing around with the hem of his shorts and even thumbing through the boxers to touch at heated, sensitive skin. 

  
  


Ray lifted up from Michael only so that he could begin to mouth at the side of Michael’s neck. There wasn’t any teeth, but more tongue just licking around, getting a good taste from the boy. Michael’s breath hitched before it released in a full, drawn out moan. “Ray,” he whimpered.

  
  


Unknowing to both of them, there was a low groan of wood that came from above. It was deep and long,  _ watching _ as the boys grew more and more intimate with their touches. Michael gasped sharply when Ray gave a nip of teeth along the tender dip of neck and shoulders before his hands finally gave way to pull at his shirt. 

  
  


“Come on,” he coaxed. “I wanna see…”

  
  


“It’s not like you haven’t seen me before,” Michael smiled, but obeyed Ray by helping him with tearing his shirt over his head. The second that he was exposed, both the chill and heat of air and skin was over him, rubbing smoothly across his chest before a finger got a chance to flick at his nipple. “Fuck,” Michael groaned, tilting his head back when the younger male moved downward to circle his lips around the hardening bud. The icy metal of the snakebites made Michael twitch, but it only added to the excitement. He jutted his hips upward to try and get some friction around his hardening cock, and he was only successful at rutting against a thigh. “Ray,” he mewled.

  
  


Another groan from the house came, and this time the boys noticed it. Ray stopped his licking to look up towards the ceiling, but Michael shook his head in a needy pant. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s old, remember?”

  
  


“I got you, babe,” Ray answered with a grin. He gave Michael another kiss, this time, lips completely wet and warm from all of the licking that he did around his nip. Michael felt Ray slot in between his legs perfectly and he opened them slightly so that he could get comfortable. His heart fluttered when Ray began to move his hips upward, purposely trying to grind his hardness against Michael’s until they both gave a mew. “Oh, God,” Ray shuddered, falling his head into Michael’s shoulder. 

  
  


Michael’s legs were quivering, itching to have a better feel and he finally just ripped down Ray’s boxers until they were at the bends of his knees. The younger Lad squealed, squeezing his eyes shut and beginning to bite down onto Michael’s shoulder for encouragement. 

  
  


Michael got his hand around Ray’s length, so smooth and hard already beginning to dribble with arousal. “God, you’re ready, huh?” he chuckled, and gave it leisurely strokes just to hear Ray croon in delight. 

  
  


“Michael,” Ray gasped, working his own hands down so that he could pull Michael’s pants down too. The waistband was tight and hard to work through, but it wasn’t long until the older Lad’s shorts were scootched down, if only so that his cock to pop out into the air. “Fucking hot,” he breathed, being gentle to try and work them down further. 

  
  


“S-sit up, you need to work with me,” Michael begged, never losing his grip on the younger’s cock. Ray obeyed and got off of having his head planted on Michael and flawlessly thrusted upward so that his length could be touching the other’s. “Yeah, that’s it,” Michael encouraged, his eyes rolling back before they shut when he felt Ray’s cock rutting up against his. He wrapped his hand around both so the movements wouldn’t be so jerky or messy, but it didn’t help much when he nearly bucked from how sensitive the feeling was. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasped. 

  
  


He wasn’t proud of how close he was already, but he didn’t care. From how it felt, Ray was riding along in the same boat as him, with bruising fingers pressed into his skin. “Keep going,” the younger encouraged with a shudder.

  
  


The couch began to squeak from how frantic the pace was between them, and there was a subtle fear that it would end up broken. With how Ray cried out in pleasure, however, Michael didn’t worry about it. Precum slid in between their lengths, making the rutting easier and all the more better. Sensitivity overcame him until he was reduced to a wailing, yowling mess. His hips quivered, muscles no longer knowing whether to relax or contract as he could feel his end coming close.

  
  


“I’m gonna come, Ray,” he warned. It reminded him of that dream that he had, the same pushing sensation overwhelming him so. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

  
  


“Me too,” Ray whimpered, and before Michael knew it, he was inhaling a desperate gulp of air. “Oh, fuck!” he moaned, grabbing onto Michael’s shoulders to leverage. Spurts of warmth striped Michael’s stomach and the older Lad moaned from the sight of it. It was hot and thick, running along his skin as Michael continued to move.

  
  


“Fuck, Ray, that was…” he didn’t finished before he was spilling over, himself, no longer able to hold back. They ended up being a sticky mess covered in cream and seed before Ray’s legs buckled in and he fell on top of Michael in an exhausted and spent pile. “Gross,” Michael laughed breathlessly, but still ended with a content and satisfied mewl. 

  
  


“Fuck you,” Ray panted, giving a haphazard kiss. Both of them were completely over stimulated and each movement was almost too overbearing for them to handle. “I liked it.”

  
  


“So did I,” Michael smiled lazily, his eyes closing. “We can shower in the morning.”

  
  


Ray nodded and yawned, and it was clear that he wasn’t going to move and so Michael got comfortable being laid on like this, snuggling close to the younger Lad.

  
  


The house groaned and creaked and he tried his best to ignore it. There was a bit of anxiousness that he felt in his heart hoping that he didn’t disturb whatever was in here. He thought he felt the air around them get colder, but he brushed it off when he realized it was just the ventilation coming on. A pang of guilt hit him but he shrugged it off. Him and Ray had been close for years now and sometimes they liked to fool around. Ray was one of the few people in the world he knew loved him no matter what, that despite their explosive fights and intense chemistry they together for probably forever. 

  
  


The noises began to die down and finally, Michael was able to sleep.

~~~

  
  


Ray woke up with a sore shoulder and feeling disgusting, though warm. The world was still dark outside and when he managed to reach over and tap his phone he saw it was a little before four AM. He was pressed up tight against Michael and the other boy looked comfortable curled up on his arm but it was starting to hurt. Ray poked the other’s shoulder and whispered his name, being gentle at first and then a little firmer. “Michael, dude, let’s go up to bed. We’re glued with jizz.”

  
  


Michael groaned and and curled closer. “Cold.”

  
  


“There’s more blankets upstairs,” Ray sing-songed.

  
  


Michael grabbed blindly for the back of the couch and grabbed the blanket off it. He curled up around it and Ray took pity on him, flaring out the material more to cover up cold toes and the vulnerable line of his back. Michael was so fucking gorgeous, always had been, and he couldn’t help but feel protective. 

  
  


Ray wiggled out from under him and tucked the fussing boy in, ruffling his fluffy curls. He wiggled into his boxers with a muffled yawn before snatching up his phone to light the way. His shoulder and his ribs were sore from being all curled up after fucking around and he needed a proper mattress. He padded out of the living room and into the hall, hooking a hand on the handrail to start up the stairs. The creaking wood was ice cold under his feet and goosebumps cropped up all over his bare shoulders.

  
  


He headed to the bathroom first. He flicked the switch but the light flickered so bad it made him dizzy so he just went by phone light. He took a piss before running a washcloth under some water and wiping himself down. Boxers abandoned on the old tile, Ray made his way to the bedroom. He stole a fresh pair of briefs off a pile of clean laundry and an old t-shirt that felt soft. Feeling refreshed, he plopped into the bed and cocooned himself in Michael’s blankets. They smelled like his friend and faintly of fabric softener. 

  
  


It lulled him straight to sleep.

  
  


~~~

  
  


He couldn’t breathe. Something heavy was on his chest, something solid that was pressing  _ down  _ and crushing his lungs. He was wheezing, the rasping sound rattling in his ears. Shadows layered over him like blankets, almost liquid as they threatened to pour down his throat and into his eyes. He fought with everything he had, sputtering and heaving, but he was being smothered.

  
  


A sharp pain dragged him out of the nightmare and into another one.

  
  


Ray’s eyes popped open and he choked on a horrified scream. There was a man above him, but not. He was pale, washed out, and  _ flickering _ . It was the only way he could describe it. The man had him pinned by the shoulders and was snarling happily above him like a starving predator who’d finally caught some prey. Where the other’s hands were there was a jagged sucking sensation, like his flesh was being drawn into a vacuum but it felt much deeper. 

  
  


Something was being drawn out of him. This man, this creature, was feeding on him.

  
  


“I saw you.”

  
  


Ray gaped. The man’s voice was low and rough but was laced with static, cutting in and out like faulty audio. Those eyes were like small rolling storms as they seared into him, teeth too white and fingers sharp as they dug into him through his shirt. 

  
  


“ Lucky whore.” He winced as the man bore down on him, the faint pressure of a knee digging into his thigh as he was pinned. “Touching and sucking on  _ my _ Michael. Filthy hands on him.”

  
  


What seemed like nails clawed over his chest, threatening to rake down. Ray gave a defeated whimper, eyes screwing shut and he hoped this was all a dream. He was  _ terrified _ , not knowing what to do. He was just wanting to wake up, but when he darted his eyes silently over to the side and there was Michael’s red, twisted curls flowing in a messy pattern. That was when he realized that he was no longer dreaming, although he didn’t yell like he wanted to. 

  
  


“ Getting to kiss him and hold him -  _ sleep  _ beside him. You don’t have a clue of how blessed you are, do you boy?” The voice faded into a rough growl, what seemed like an edgy razor that cut deep into Ray’s ears. It was low, still covered up by the scattered static that only brought even more fear to Ray’s heart. “How would you like it if I just grabbed you in the night and did my way with you? Would you like me all over you, using you as I please?”

  
  


Ray shook his head, trying to deny that he ever touched Michael to begin with, but his chin was seized in an icy grip. The man’s smile was crazed as he forced his head back and presented his mouth, his trembling lower lip. He was descended upon, pale lips slanting across his own. Ray whined and tried to turn away again but he couldn’t. It was like ice and smoke. It felt almost like the time he’d smeared Oragel on his mouth for a dare except he wasn’t drooling on himself. The man drew back only to drag teeth on the small, thin rings along his lower lip and the pressure made his heart swell up in pure fear. He feared his whole lip being ripped off by a savage chomp but there seemed to be some joy in just chewing on them, each breath he exhaled getting sucked up.

  
  


Ray could feel himself getting more tired. Weaker.  _ Oh fucking shit... _

  
  


The man was suddenly tackled off him. He smacked off the floor and flickered when he hit the floor, skidding a few feet before popping out of existence entirely. Ray laid there and trembled, staring at the spot where the man had been. He waited for him to reappear or to be pulled out of this delusion but it didn’t happen. He was trembling as pressure was put on his shoulder and hip, feeling like hands. Ray sat up and tried to scoot away but he was held, a small reassuring sound meeting his ears. 

  
  


There was no one in front of him but he could hear the concerned little whine, feel the thumb running over his collarbone.  _ Are you okay? _

  
  


Ray’s throat relaxed and he could finally scream. 

  
  


~~~

  
  


Michael jolted out of a dreamless, peaceful sleep and woke up to Ray shrieking. He tossed off the blanket and got to his feet, wobbling a little before pulling on his sweats and taking off to the stairs. Ray barrelled past him and went straight for his clothes, yanking them on with a heavy scowl. 

  
  


“Ray? What the fuck, man?”

  
  


The other was flustered and angry as he grabbed his bag and pushed past him again. Michael followed him out the door and onto the sidewalk in bare feet, barely managing to snag his arm before he’d made it too far. “Ray, dude, what is wrong with you?”

  
  


Ray whirled around and there was naked fear on his face. “What the  _ fuck  _ is in your house?”

  
  


Michael flinched.

  
  


“ Someone,  _ something _ , attacked me in your room,” Ray explained as calmly as he could. “I don’t know what or who but it was real. They disappeared or they were invisible or something and they were fucking  _ eating  _ me?” He looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure what he was saying. “I still can’t catch my breath, fucking shit.”

  
  


Michael’s jaw dropped. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. His mouth was dry and his stomach squeezed up. So long he’d been suppressing it, ignoring the noises and the half formed dreams, the soft touches that were there and gone.  _ Is it real? _ “ You saw them too?”

  
  


“You knew?” Ray barked, bristling up. “You fucking knew there were killer fucking ghosts in your house and you didn’t say anything?”

  
  


“I-I didn’t know they were real,” Michael fumbled, still struggling with the concept. “It’s just dreams and noises and shit, I didn’t think there was anything. Ghosts aren’t real!”

  
  


“ _ Bullshit _ ghosts aren’t real!” Ray snapped back. “You fucking idiot. You want to get us both killed? Do you have some kind of death wish?”

  
  


Michael scrubbed a hand through his hair. “There’s not one here, there can’t be.”

  
  


“You’re fucking deluded; I know what I saw, and what I heard.” A jealous coil of rage twisted in his gut. “I don’t care what kind of gross thrill you’re getting out of this but those things are dangerous and they’re going to kill you one day.”

  
  


“ Ray, that’s not going to happen.”  
  
“ They’re going to snap your fucking spine like Paranormal Activity and I’m not going to stick around and watch!” Ray smacked his hand away when he reached out for him. “ _ Don’t _ .”

  
  


“You’re being crazy-”

  
  


“Fuck you, Michael!”

  
  


Michael tried to reach for him again but Ray jerked away, shaking his head before taking off down the sidewalk without another word. Michael stared after him, wanting to try and get him to come back, but there was no use. The night swallowed him up and Michael was left on a dark sidewalk by himself, cold air teasing his chest. He turned and looked up at the house he’d bought. Once a bright spot and the start of his new life now looked like a giant wanting to swallow him whole, door frame gaping like a starving mouth. A spider’s nest, weaved deeply and inviting, tantalizingly shiny and sticking to his skin to drag him back inside. 

  
  


“ Fuck,” he breathed out, eyes darting from one window to the next. A curtain rustled in the very top window of the attic. He squinted, wanting to see a hand or a face or something to make Ray’s anger worth it, but there was nothing.  _ No _ . There’s something up there. There has to be. All of this can’t be coincidence. He pursed his lips and started to walk back inside, pavement scraping the bottom of his feet.  _ Doesn’t matter. Can’t stay outside forever.  _

  
  


~~~

  
  


It was almost a week before he heard from Ray again. 

  
  


Michael was doing his best to reboard the stairs when there was a knock. He frowned and picked up his phone to check the time.  _ Who the fuck is here before noon?  _ He stood and wiped sweaty palms off on his cargo shorts, leaving his tools behind. He yanked open the door and startled when he saw Ray there, standing on his doorstep like they hadn’t screamed at each other after fooling around not a few hours before. 

  
  


Ray seemed to have dressed to match his sullen expression. He’d changed his lip rings out for crimson red ones, jacket dark with the hood up. He looked exhausted, hands fidgeting with a black drawstring bag. 

  
  


“ Ray…”  
  
“ Here.” He tossed the bag and it rattled when Michael caught it against his chest. He waited for Ray to explain but he didn’t so he just tugged the bag open, digging around and feeling cold stones. He plucked one out and held it up. It was a lettered, six sided dice. Swirls of greens and reds and golds were interrupted by carved, white letters. They were gorgeous and warmed between his fingertips but there was a strange sense of  _ more _ .

  
  


“What are these?”

  
  


“Agate dice.” Ray replied simply. “It’s pretty powerful stuff. It’s earthy, pretty grounded in energy, discovery of truth and memories. It’s used a lot with depressive feelings so I thought it was appropriate.”

  
  


Michael frowned a little as he dumped the dice back into the bag. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff?”

  
  


He shrugged. “My grandma was into Santeria and she used to let me help her make up protection bags for the neighborhood. So I’m familiar.”

  
  


“ You’ve literally  _ never  _ mentioned it before.”  
  
A spark of irritation appeared in those dark eyes. “Well you didn’t mention you were fucking a ghost,  _ so _ .”

  
  


Michael flinched. “Listen, man, I didn’t mean for everything to go down like that.”

  
  


Ray took a long, shuddering breath to keep himself calm before he spoke again. “Ask them.”

  
  


Michael huffed in confusion. “What?”

  
  


“Ask them, with these, what they want and who they are,” Ray clarified. “Be careful. Whatever you’re doing is dangerous already but these could make it better or worse. It’s always better to know.”

  
  


Michael squeezed the bag and felt the first flutter of true fear. 

  
  


“I don’t want to be right, Michael.” Ray stepped closer and took a fistful of his shirt, tugging him in. Michael went willingly, not giving a shit about the neighbors as he felt Ray’s breath and the heat rolling off his body. “I want you around for a long time.”

  
  


Ray’s breath fanned his mouth before their lips pressed. It was an achingly sweet kiss and Michael relaxed into it, grateful for the healing of whatever rift had formed between them the other night. He grabbed his shoulder and kissed back, hoping this wasn’t some weird kind of goodbye. Ray thumbed along his jaw and pulled back with reluctant slowness. 

  
  


“I’m a fucking pussy,” Ray laughed softly, thumb dragging along his damp lip. “You shouldn’t do it alone but I can’t be here for it. One of them really fucking hates me.”

  
  


Michael tightened his grip. “Did he scare you that bad?”

  
  


“Oh yeah.” Ray tried to grin it off but his heart wasn’t in it. “I’d say have Gavin with you but he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut. Maybe your friend Geoff but I don’t know if he’ll believe you.”

  
  


Michael’s hand went limp and dropped to his side, throat tightening up as he finally let out the thought that had been plaguing him since he night he’d passed out, the attack he’d tried to pretend was a hallucination. “What if they want to kill me?”

  
  


Ray’s lips thinned to a stark, white slash. “Jump out the fucking window.”  
  
Michael laughed weakly but his friend’s expression never changed.

  
  


“I’m not joking, Michael. Do whatever you need to do, but don’t let them take you.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Michael stood at the base of the stairs and stared at the attic door, dice bag clutched to his chest and heart beating so hard it made his ribs rattle. He’d spent a couple days doing chores and going to work, eyes straying often to the little black bag on his coffee table surrounded by Red Bull and empty red cups. He’d done a little research on the stones and how to talk to ghosts but it had all been sort of vague and hoaky. 

  
  


_ It’s all fake _ . Michael grabbed the railing and started up the stairs, chest tight.  _ This can’t be real, there’s no way. This is fucking crazy. Maybe the walls are just full of asbestos and we’re having hallucinations. That’s all it is. _

  
  


Michael continued to feed himself that line of bullshit all the way up the stairs. His fingers trembled on the railing and when he met the door he stood before it for a few minutes before he got up the courage to push it open. He couldn’t even open his eyes until he pawed for the light switch and flipped it. The bulbs were weak but working and room the room was cast in a dull, golden light but only in two spots, the corners and edges of the room still cast in shadow. The curtains were open and the streetlight poured in a bit, scattering across the cushions in the deep seat it was made of. The perfect lounging spot but set in the creepiest place. The cardboard boxes were still scattered everywhere and the boxes he’d gone through were still in their place, contents overturned, picture still sitting in the pieces of glass. 

  
  


He’d half expected everything to be scattered. Besides shreds of a sheet on the floor, everything looked normal. 

  
  


Michael went over to the spilled box and carefully took up the picture. It truly was Daniel, he was almost sure of it. That jaw, the build, the sweet face - it all matched. At least it seemed to. He’d been thinking about doing this since Ray gave him the dice and this picture would be apart of it. If there was any truth to this he would need a personal belonging. 

  
  


“This is stupid,” he scoffed, nerves still cinching his throat. He plopped down in the middle of the room and laid the photograph by his knee. He tugged open the bag and spilled it onto the floor in front of him. He expected the word ‘death’ to be spelled out or some other creepy word but it was just nonsense. He huffed and fussed a little, stalling and trying not to get freaked out. It felt like when he was a kid and hiding under the covers, trying to convince himself that there were no monsters lingering on the edge of his bed. The panic was familiar, almost nostalgic.

  
  


_ There’s no one here. Nothing here wants to hurt you. If there were, they would have done it by now. Just throw the stupid dice and when it doesn’t work I’m going to gorge myself on take out Chinese. Deal. _

  
  


There were eight dice all together. He scooped them all up in his palms and gave them a good shake. He considered what he wanted to say and decided just to be direct. “Am I alone here?”

  
  


He tossed the dice in front of him and laughed in relief when there was nothing. “Hey, look, I made ‘bun’ and ‘at’ and…”

  
  


Two dice had escaped the main splash zone. Two dice side by side, too close to be a coincidence. 

  
  


_ No. _

  
  


“ Fuck,” Michael breathed out, heart picking up again. He tried to swallow but everything was dry and tight. It was two letters, lowercase and innocent, but they struck something in his gut. “This is bullshit, this can’t...fucking shit.”  
  
He grabbed them all up again and shook them. “Am I alone in this house?” He dropped them and twice dice sat side by side. 

  
  


_ No. _

  
  


“Shit, shit, okay, fuck,” Michael panted, picking up the dice with nervous hands. He rolled them between his palms, trying to breathe past his pounding heart. “How many are here?” He tossed them. His breath caught. “Two. Fuck. Two of you. wait.”

  
  


He plucked them up , hands so shaky that he had to try a couple of times to get all of the dice up. His mind was spinning and he didn’t know how to handle it. It felt as if someone had just punched him in the throat; in the back of his mind, he knew all of this was real but he didn’t want to accept it and he just hated himself even more. “ Are you ghosts? Were you people?”

  
  


_ Yes. _

  
  


“Oh fuck me.” He could almost feel the blood draining out of his face. He looked at the picture on the floor. “Daniel? Is...that you?” He held his breath as he tossed them, squinting his eyes shut and waiting as long as he could bare. There was an arch of three die that made up the word ‘yes’ and his heart fluttered, mouth dropping open. “Daniel. You’re real, I can’t believe it.”

  
  


It felt like something brushed his hair but he couldn’t be sure.

  
  


Michael realized he was getting choked up for another reason and he wiped his eyes. He looked at the picture again before picking up the dice. “Are you with Adam? Are you two okay?” Something burned through his hands and the dice felt like broken glass against his palms. He dropped them as fast as he could, hissing and clutching his hands to his chest like he could wipe the pain off. The dice scattered wide except for two letters by themselves dead in front of him.

  
  


_ No.  _

  
  


“ Fuckers. I get it. No Adam. I don’t blame you, he was an asshole,” he muttered , honestly wondering what happened to the mate. There was that fear that perhaps Dan grew violent from the behavior that Adam gave him to the point that Dan finally up and killed him. He hoped to God that he didn’t; he did not want an angry ghost here, by all means. Palms aching, he stood up and went to gather up the dice again. The room was getting colder and it wasn’t his imagination. Goosebumps cropped up all over his arms and the tip of his ears were getting numb. He went back to where he was sitting and grit his teeth, determined to figure out who the fuck was in his house. “Who’s with you Daniel?”

  
  


He tossed them and the dice lined up in a name he wasn’t familiar with. 

  
  


“Ryan,” he stated. “Ryan’s with you. Who’s…?” He trailed off, picking up the dice and shaking them. “Did he attack me that night when my friends had to come over and check on me?”

  
  


_ Yes.  _

  
  


Michael shuddered, fingers trembling as he picked up the dice again.  _ So he’s the possessive, angry one.  _

  
  


“Did he attack my friend Ray?”

  
  


_ Yes. _

  
  


Michael frowned sharply. “Why?”

  
  


He hesitated before he threw the dice down, making sure that he  _ truly  _ wanted to know the answer.  The answer this time was truly surprising.  _ Envy _ . The word was simple and elegant, laying obviously in front of him with no doubt. “Envy? What does that mean?”

  
  


Michael choked  and nearly screamed as hands laid in the dip of his back and dragged up, shirt bunching with it. The dice dropped in shock. He shivered, eyes wide in horror as he truly felt fingers digging into his skin. Breath brushed against his nape, ice seeping into the human’s skin and making him ache to pull away. But beyond the fact that he knew  _ no one  _ was there, there was a tenderness to it. His gaze fell to the dice.

  
  


_ Mine _ . Clear as day.  Michael swore that he could have pissed himself right then and there. His ears twitched and his nerves felt as if they were shot of energy with the way they turned as cold as ice. 

  
  


“I don’t understand,” he wavered, mouth trembling as the hands slowly left him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you still here?” The dice ground against one another between his palms and his heart skipped up into his throat. “What do you want?”

  
  


He scattered them onto the floorboards, eyes searching each surface, looking for words. Turns out he didn’t have to look too hard. The word, like the others, was very clearly there.

  
  


_ You. _

  
  


“Me?” He could feel the bile burning the back of his throat. He ribs quivered and his stomach went sour and he was sure he was going to throw up. He could vividly see himself strangled to death by ghostly hands, throat slit, sheets formed around his throat in a noose as he hung from the bannister, broken neck from getting shoved down the stairs - a dozen deaths flashing in front of him. He stuttered on the edge of a sob. “Don’t kill me. Please.”

  
  


The dice rattled loudly against the floorboards. He watched them start to dance, corners clicking against the wood before they started to upturn themselves. They rolled themselves across the floor, spinning around one another like circling wagons. Four dice skittered together in a line, the others forming an unnatural circle around it. The dice seemed to shudder in time to Michael’s heart and they started to turn, revealing to him one small word.

  
  


_ Ours _ .

  
  


Michael jerked forward as both his arms were grabbed. He hurried looked on each side and he could see his shirt bunching under invisible fingers, the skin giving, could feel the solid pressure. “Shit!” The light bulbs both popped and he screamed as he was dragged across the floor, legs kicking uselessly as he was pulled even from “streetlight. “Let me go, you fucks! I’m not going to die in a God damn attic in Jersey, I won’t-”

  
  


The air got knocked out of him in one great whoosh as he was thrown into the wall, what felt like palms playing on his thighs to keep him pinned. He looked frantically for any sign of a person but there was nothing besides a shimmer in the air, two draws of spectral breath. He hissed as his curls were fisted and his head tilted back, unseen lips slotting over his own in a dominant kiss. It was the strangest sensation - getting kissed so possessively by something he couldn’t see. It could be nothing else but another mouth on his, the shape of lips and a cool tongue swiping over his lip.  

  
  


He grunted lowly as his shirt was shoved up, two hands laying over his stomach and gliding up. They groped at his chest and he couldn’t stop shivering as the warmth was sapped out of him. He tried to look down at his chest and there was  _ nothing  _ and it was fucking with him. 

  
  


_ Ours, ours, all ours. _ The words kept on repeating themselves over and over in his head, echoing back and forth against his ears to the point that he thought he was going to go insane. The touches over his chest turned rougher as nails as sharp as claws dug into his skin before beginning to play with the tender, pink nips that were budded from the cold, chilly air. He gave a soft mewl, head tilting back until it hit the wall that was behind him, lips finally letting go of him. 

  
  


“ W-why are you doing this?” he could barely afford a simple sentence from the way the touches were grouping all over him. Soon, there was a grab at his groin and he hissed as he instinctively pressed against what seemed like an opened palm. It was warming up and he didn’t want to admit that it actually felt so  _ nice  _ around him. He kept himself silent all until he squealed when his shirt was tugged off, his arms flying up into the air on demand. The article of clothing was tossed away carelessly and he whimpered as the feeling of vulnerability began to seep over him, just like a shroud.

  
  


“P-please, don’t hurt me,” he begged, still convinced that they were out for blood and revenge with the sick, twisted kick of having a play with his body. He winced when the sharp nails buried themselves into his skin again, but he was drug in for another kiss before he could even protest. The hand on his groin began to cup over his growing hardness and massage all around and pretty soon, he could hear noises of contentment. There was something playing with the button of his pants - eager fingers trying to rip them open and rub over him until finally, they did. 

  
  


_ Just what I’ve been wanting. _ What felt like a hand pulled open the slit in his boxers and wrapped around his cock that was shamefully hard and leaking. Michael gave an embarrassing noise, eyes rolling back as the invisible hand began to pump up and down his cock. He looked down, completely bugging out at the fact that his cock was hard in the air and yet he saw no other thing messing with him, making him this way. 

  
  


_ Perfect, sweet thing _ , said another voice. It was calm and comforting, especially compared to the rough edge that was the first voice. 

  
  


Michael didn’t know what to say or do. His fingers tried to have a hold on the wall for leverage, but there was nothing. A humiliating, pitchy moan sounded from his throat - it sounded dry and  _ thirsty  _ for more. He suddenly was reminded of that dream he has the rough hands let go of his cock and immediately clamped down on his tender sides, forcing him to turn around until his cheek was pressed against the stone cold bricks. 

  
  


_ Now for the fun, huh, little tramp? _

  
  


_ All ours. _

  
  


There was point where Michael wanted to agree with them. 

  
  


_ Yours, yours, _ he thought, but he gritted his teeth. He felt so exposed as his pants were shucked off and his ass was shown in the chilled air. Goosebumps formed against the full rounds and he gave a gasp as his cheeks were spread apart by the invisible force. His hole clenched against the cold air and he felt his chest heave as the breath was taken right out of him. 

  
  


_ You give us the heat we need. You make us feel alive, little one. _

  
  


The voice was calm and smooth, just like cold milk. He licked his lips as he could feel a prodding at his rim, what seemed like fingers swirled around his rim and threatened to poke in until without warning, they did and the human hissed with his eyes screwing shut. The unseen hands on his cheeks suddenly bit down with nails digging into his flesh. He wanted to cry out in pain, but no sound came out; deep down, he  _ loved  _ it and he wanted more. There was a bruising pain that came over him when the hands  _ squeezed _ at his skin and that’s when Michael made a noise that sounded hurt.

  
  


_ Stop! You’re hurting him! _ , cried out the voice that was caring - he  _ knew  _ it was Daniel. 

  
  


_ The little slut wants it; look at him.  _ The voice growled heavily, rolling like thunder that was so intimidating and it actually made Michael fearful, but there was that passion inside of them that burned and yearned for more.

  
  


“Y-yes,” he finally whimpered out, recalling the memories of his dream when he was treated like this. Ryan - he could sense it was the other, the rougher, hungrier one next to Dan. The fingers inside of him curled upward and he gasped when he felt the shot of pleasure that bolted through him. He gave a loud moan, head tilting back and hands trying to grab on the wall harder for grip so that he didn’t fall from weak knees. 

  
  


His nipples budded from the icy air. Fingers coiled around the pink nips, threatening to tug, but there was hesitation in the hand.  _ Dan _ , Michael knew. The spirit was so careful, not wanting to hurt him. The other unseen being, however, was already trying to have his way and Michael could feel a thick, strong length pressing against his rim. He felt heat and crooned, looking back to see himself on display as if no one was actually there. 

  
  


“Please,” he begged. It sounded more like he was choking than anything. His throat was wet from him practically drooling so much and he could barely handle the tease anymore. “I want it.”

  
  


_ Thirsty whore. _

  
  


He gasped when the spectral finally pressed in and he nearly hit his head on the wall. The stretch burned, but it didn’t hurt. He soon felt on fire, gasping for every breath of air he could take as he was being filled. It was slick, somehow, but not quite in the way lube did. It just felt  _ easy _ . A deep, satisfied noise rolled through the air. 

  
  


“Shit,” he cursed, his teeth tight and grit. There was a brush of what felt like air across his earlobe and he shuddered. 

  
  


_ You look absolutely amazing like this…  _ it trailed off with a whisper and Michael blushed from the compliment. The hands on his chest tickled a little bit, no longer that ice that prickled at his skin, but it felt warm and soothing. He could feel a pressure, as if someone were pushing him back and he finally got off of the wall. He was about to speak, curious of what was happening, but what felt like a thumb pressed into his chin, pulling open his lips slight just for them to be met in an intimate, hot kiss.

  
  


His eyes fluttered along with his rim as Ryan grabbed onto him, thrusts growing sharp as he pounded into him. Michael squealed, ripping away from Dan. “Fuck!” he yelled. Hands were all over him, slender fingers running over his cock and giving it decent and loving strokes while thicker, more calloused ones continued to cling and rub against his hips.

  
  


_ You’re as sweet as sugar. All mine. _

  
  


_ Ours _ , Dan corrected with what seemed like a small growl. Michael couldn’t help but smile, feeling the center of attention between the both of them.  _ Our amazing boy. Open up for me, won’t you? _

  
  


Michael obeyed and instantly he felt his lips stretch wide as the kind spirit slipped inside. Initially, he was confused but closed his eyes and allowed himself to be used as he felt Dan slip in and out of his mouth. It felt like a cock against his tongue, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He wondered how ghost bodies worked but his mind was blanking out from pleasure. Never before had he felt so  _ full  _ in his entire life and he adored every second of it. Every greedy thrust that Ryan gave drove him crazy as ecstasy nearly took him over. He felt on edge and his brain had fried. His world was just centered around the two spectrals making him feel so good. 

  
  


Ryan’s thrusts started to curve  _ just  _ right against his sweet spot and his knees buckled in. His toes curled tightly, jutting his hips into Dan’s hand as he came. The noise he made sounded desperate yet content all at the same time and all he could think of was  _ thank you. _

  
  


The spirits didn’t stop, however. It only made Ryan’s thrusts harsher, the specter chasing his own release. Michael vaguely made some internal joke about ghost stamina but he wouldn’t remember it later on. Dan did the same and Michael could feel his lips stretch even wider as the spirit went faster. The human felt so overwhelmed in the best ways, completely consumed by savage and needy movements. It wasn’t a second more until he heard deep roars that sounded as sharp as knives. Ryan pinned himself against Michael and the human squealed as Dan did the same, holding onto his head until he was unable to move. 

  
  


Michael kept his eyes wide opened and he felt as if he were thrown into a bath of hot water. He could see just the faintest image pulsating - a small flicker of the ghost that was holding him. For a split second, Michael could truly see the spirit with a handsome face, dark hair, and creamy, brown eyes. It was Dan; his face was lax with pleasure, eyes lidded but still opened and staring directly into the human’s. 

  
  


_ Lovely boy. _

  
  


He heard the words echoing in his head as he suddenly felt no one holding onto him any longer. He collapsed on the floor, weak, spent, and satisfied. He clung to the wall as he tried to catch his breath. He was tingling so hard his fingers felt numb but it only made him smile because he’d proven it was real - the ghosts were  _ real _ ! They didn’t want to kill him, at least he was pretty sure they didn’t. 

  
  


It was hard to really process what the fuck had just happened and he suspected he was in some sort of shock because  _ holy fucking shit there are ghosts in my house.  _ But there was one thought he knew from sure. He hoped for another visit very, very soon.

  
  
  


  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Dan and Ryan backstories to come <3


End file.
